If Only You Knew
by Pelahnar
Summary: Satine isn't sick, but she did go through with the play and let Christian leave instead of singing the final song. She doesn't want to go to the Duke after the play - then something extremely unexpected happens . . . Rated T to be safe. FINISHED!
1. Prologue

**If Only You Knew**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Moulin Rouge or any of the events or characters therein. I did make up Nini's nickname for Satine - "Sparkles" - but I can't really say I own that either, because it's just short for "the Sparkling Diamond'**

**Nini, by the way, is the prostitute who told the Duke about Christian and Satine and danced with the Argentinian (along with everyone else) in El Tango de Roxanne.**

**A/N: If you know the story of Les Miserables, then I highly recommend that you go read my crossover Moulin Rouge/Les Mis, A Second Chance, A Second Play. It's the same story as this one (at least at the beginning), but it incorporates the musical version of Les Mis.**

Everything had gone according to plan.

She had not given herself away.

The penniless sitar player was gone.

The play had been a success.

The Indian courtesan had chosen the Maharaja.

All that was left was for the French courtesan to go to the Duke.

But she didn't want to. As she approached the door, her feet dragged, begging her to let them run back to her penniless sitar. But she couldn't let them. She must make them carry her forward. She must . . .

There was a shape at the foot of the Duke's door. As if a very large someone were taking a nap there. _Warner?_ She thought, curiosity quickening her steps. The Duke's manservant – or bodyguard. But why would he be on the floor . . .?

When she got close enough to see, she wished she hadn't. Warner had been shot through the forehead – he was dead.

_BANG!_

A gunshot pierced the air.

Satine opened the door slowly, almost afraid of what she would find inside.

The Duke was dead. While Satine had racked her brain for a solution that didn't involve lying to Christian or being forever on the run, killing the Duke had never even occurred to her. She wasn't sure she would've been able to, even if it had – she was no murderer. But then, who? And . . . why?

Satine pulled her eyes away from the lifeless Duke and they landed on – "Nini?"

Nini lowered the still smoking gun. "Go back to the penniless sitar player, Sparkles. You don't belong here." For once in her life, Nini was completely serious – not even her eyes were laughing.

Satine stared at her, in shock. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing the two people she hated most in the world dead. Perhaps it was from seeing Nini with a gun. She felt lightheaded. As if she were free. Free to live the life she wanted. With Christian. And Nini had been the one to make it possible.

"Nini . . ."

"That all you can say, Sparkles?" Nini gave her a small, crooked smile, but her heart wasn't in it like it normally was.

Satine sighed. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I don't deserve it." She set the gun down and sat on the bed – Satine shuddered slightly, thinking about what might've happened on that bed . . .

"Yes, you do."

"No! I really don't – but it doesn't matter now. Shakespeare's not getting any closer. Go, Sparkles." Did Satine detect a hint of despair in Nini's eyes? Even tears? Of course not. As far as she knew, Nini couldn't feel – and she definitely didn't cry.

Satine nodded and turned to leave, then stopped. She fumbled with the clasp that held the diamond necklace around her throat and took it off. "Here," she threw it to Nini, who caught it, looking surprised.

"No, Satine –"

"Why would I want it? It's yours."

"I don't know, you could sell it –" protested Nini weakly, already enthralled by the necklace's beauty.

"I have other diamonds. And I wouldn't want to use money the Duke gave me anyway. I don't want it. You do. You deserve it, too." Without warning, Nini leapt up and encased Satine in a hug, which – after a moment of surprise – she returned.

"Thank you!" Nini whispered fervently. "Now go! I'll tell Harold good-bye for you – otherwise he'll try to convince you to stay, you know he will." Satine nodded, sad that she wouldn't see Harold again, but not wanting to waste another moment. _I'll come back one day._ She vowed silently.

* * *

Nini stood on the balcony and watched Satine go, absently stroking the extravagant necklace. She sighed, and turned away as the retreating figure vanished into the night. _If only you knew, Sparkles. If only you knew._

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	2. How Parents and Landlords are Similar

**If Only You Knew**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Moulin Rouge. Never have, never will *yawn***

**Thank you,Trakrat, my first reviewer. I've decided I like this story after all, so I didn't need much incentive to continue. Here's chapter one! (The other was a prologue)**

Satine's POV

"I know what's wrong with you, Satine!"

Satine looked up, resigned. She knew what was coming – this was a common breakfast conversation. At the time, it had been the only option, but now – after living with them for the past three months – now, she could not see how moving in with her parents had ever seemed like a good idea.

"You are not married." Her father continued. "As you will be twenty-five soon, you must find a husband before too long."

"God forbid I turn twenty-five unwed." Satine muttered, going back to her toast. "Look, I really don't think marrying some rich fifty-year-old man is going to solve my problems. If anything, it'll multiply them." She sighed at the disappointed look on her father's face. "I will get married – as soon as I find him."

"You don't even know his last name!"

Satine rolled her eyes. Last names hadn't been important back at the Moulin Rouge, so she'd never bothered to learn Christian's. Nor did he know hers, so he wouldn't be able to find her with it either – assuming he was looking, which was unlikely. "I'll find him anyway." She said, trying to keep her tone level – after all, what if she didn't?

Her mother joined the conversation. "Of course you will, sweetheart. But when you do, what if he's already engaged – or even married – to someone else?"

Unfortunately, Satine had also thought of this and more unfortunately, she couldn't rule it out completely. She did hope that he'd been broken-hearted enough to ignore anyone else for a few months at least – but a few months were quickly running out. "Then I'll marry a rich fifty-year-old." She grimaced, trying to see herself actually going through with that. "Or, at least, I'll marry a rich thirty-year-old. Happy?" Her parents exchanged disappointed glances.

Sometimes, during the nearly seven years she'd spent at the Moulin Rouge, Satine would wonder why she'd ever left home. At other times, especially over the last three months, it was painfully clear. Now was one of those times. _Stop it_. She chastised herself immediately. _They let you come back after almost seven years – seven years! – of no contact whatsoever. Not everyone would do that. Try a little gratitude._ Gratitude was hard to find when all her parents wanted was for her to get married and move out again.

Satine gave up on a peaceful breakfast. "I have to go to work."

"Already?" her mother asked, surprised.

"Yes. Love you. 'Bye."

"Goodbye, darling."

'Work' was singing at a bar, but her parents didn't know that, or they would've told her to quit. Singing was not a proper job for a young – loosely termed as under twenty-five – merchant's daughter, especially singing at a bar. It wasn't, her father would've said, a way to find good husband. If good was defined as rich, then perhaps not, but Satine had chosen this bar because Christian had mentioned that he'd gone to it once.

There was a chance he'd go back. A small chance, perhaps, but Satine didn't care – not if it brought him back to her.

* * *

Christian's POV

"You need a job."

This comment had been repeated all too much, but Christian knew it was true. He opened his eyes, to look at Fredrick Chandler. He was Christian's best friend – a landlord who refused to let him pay rent because, as Fredrick said 'What are friends for?'

"Or better yet," Fredrick continued. "A girlfriend."

Christian groaned, wishing his friend would stop bringing that up. After three months, Christian had finally stopped thinking she was every redhead – male or female – that he saw, stopped hearing her voice whenever her heard someone singing. He still dreamed about her though – both night and day – and he knew that he always would. _Until my dying day. _

"No." he told Fredrick and closed he's eyes again. "I will get a job. Soon. But not a girlfriend."

Fredrick sighed. "She's forgotten you, you know. It's no use obsessing over her. There are other girls. Like the one I want to come meet."

The girl in question sang at a bar that Fredrick and some of Christian's other friends frequented – probably because she worked there – but Christian hadn't visited it since he returned to England. Probably for the same reason. Beautiful blue-eyes, vibrant red hair, pretty face and voice of an angel – her description was much too close to Satine's. To go with them would be to embrace the possibility that she had followed him – a possibility he'd been trying to deny since he'd walked out of _Spectacular Spectacular_. Satine was still at the Moulin Rouge – or was acting somewhere else after her success there, but like Fredrick said, she certainly wasn't missing him. Perhaps if he convinced himself of this, he would stop obsessing over her. _Do I want to?_ He thought, but was unable to answer himself.

"Just come with us. You don't have to talk to her – just watch her performance, and believe me, then you'll want to." Fredrick went on.

"Fine." Curiosity as to who this woman was forced the word was out of Christian's mouth before he could stop it. _Maybe if I go, Fredrick will stop asking me to._ He reasoned, quickly pushing the curiosity back. It wasn't her. It couldn't be. "But I thought you said she won't talk to anyone – and that you've tried everyday since you first saw her. She says she's waiting for someone."

"If she's waiting for someone, then he's about two weeks late. I've never seen her talk to anyone if she's not brushing them off." Fredrick retorted.

As Christian left the house with Fredrick, he couldn't help hoping that it would Satine. _No, _he argued, _she's in France. It can't be her. It can't be_.

**Review, review, review, review! If love is like oxygen, then reviews are love and so is how excited with the story I am. For this chapter, one review plus my excitement gave me enough oxygen to finish it. Who knows - maybe the next chapter will take three or four (or more, I never want to limit reviews). Since you don't know my excitement level, you should review, just be on the safe side.**

**Feel free to point out any errors, including grammar, character, and time period, but I can't promise I'll actually fix them.**

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	3. How Annoying Police Inspectors Can Be

**If Only You Knew**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing - well, not precisely true: I suppose I can take credit for Fredrick. I own nothing that's not mine. Which makes sense. Nothing from the Moulin Rouge.**

**Thanks again to Trakrat - I'll tell you what: because you gave such a good review and on the same day I uploaded, I _will_ count yours as five.**

Nini's POV

Nini was in Sparkles' old dressing - _her_ dressing room now - staring at Sparkles' necklace in the mirror and wondering why she wasn't happy. She had everything she'd ever wished for, right? Money, glamour, beautiful jewelry, the limelight all to herself - instead of standing in Sparkles' shadow - and all the men she wanted - exactly what was missing from her life?

_Love . . _.

The answer came unbidden. Nini gasped, pushing that thought to the back of her mind quickly. But she knew it was still there, lurking, waiting to come out again. "I'm not in love." She told her reflection stubbornly. "It's just - an infatuation." she smiled, knowing that Sparkles had once told that to Harold, when it was most certainly _not _true. _Like it's not true now . . . _Again, Nini destroyed this thought before it was fully formed, but her smile was gone. "It's nothing." she whispered to the reflection - her conscience, perhaps. The conscience that was screaming at her not to make Sparkles' mistakes, not to fall in love. Especially with -

The door burst open. Nini immediately pulled off the necklace - she never wore it in public. Most of the other girls didn't even know she had it. "Harold?" she asked her intruder. "You can knock -"

"It's the police, Nini!" Harold Zidler cried. "They've realized the Duke's dead!"

Nini was careful to make herself seem less alarmed than she actually was. Harold didn't know who'd killed the Duke - although he, along with everyone else, suspected Sparkles - and she wasn't about to tell him. Since no one wanted the great Sparkling Diamond arrested for murder, they'd tried to keep it quiet. Almost three months had passed, and until now, no one outside of the Moulin Rouge had known about the Duke's untimely death. And no one - other than Sparkles and Nini herself - knew who'd actually killed him. But if the police were involved, something was bound to incriminate someone. Whether that someone would be Nini or Sparkles was anyone's guess.

* * *

"Well, Mr. Zidler" said the inspecter. "It's pretty clear to me what happened. This Satine 'Sparkling Diamond' Poisson was obviously tired after the show, upset about the sudden change, perhaps fed up with her life here in general - so she killed the Duke and his bodyg - manservant and fled the country."

Nini saw a lot missing from that story. "Spar - Satine had lived here for nearly seven years when she left. I don't think being tired - or even upset - would cause her to murder a valued . . . customer."

The inspector turned to her, "So, what do you suggest happened? The way I see it, there's only one suspect to this case, which means she committed the crime - whether we have a strong motive or not." He lost interested in Nini at this point, and continued talking to Harold. "No, I'm convinced she's the murderer - what I don't understand is why you didn't tell the police about this in the first place."

While Harold struggled to find a good enough reason, Nini kept quiet. She knew she shared Sparkles' talent on the stage, but she wasn't nearly as good at making up stories - and unlike Sparkles, she knew the difference between acting and lying.

Harold's reason - whatever it was, Nini hadn't been paying attention - seemed to satisfy the inspector. "In that case, I am going to travel to England in search of our criminal." Nini winced inwardly upon hearing Sparkles called a criminal, but did not particularly want to be executed for murder, so she said nothing.

But that didn't mean she had to do nothing. As soon as the inspector was gone, she told Harold, "I'm leaving."

"What? Why?"

"I'm going to go warn Sparkles. Don't worry, I'll come back. I just . . . don't think she killed him."

"Nini - You and I know better than the inspector that Satine did have a motive -" Harold said gently.

Nini cut in, "Nonetheless," she said coldly. "I can't see Sparkles as a murderer."

"But -" Harold protested as she started to leave. _Does he always have to be this stubborn? _Nini thought, exasperated. "Won't the police be able to find her before you do?"

Nini smiled, more mischeivously than she had in months. "Perhaps they would. If they were looking for _her_. They're looking for - what did he say - 'Satine "the Sparkling Diamond" Poisson?' Well, _I'm_ looking for Sparkles - Satine Mercer. She was born in England, you know that. Why would she have a French last name?" Her smile broadened at the startled look on Harold's face. Maybe he _hadn't_ know. Whatever. "Since I can look for a family name, instead of an individual, it shouldn't be hard to find her parents, and hopefully, her."

With one last grin she left the room as Harold muttered, "I didn't know she had parents . . ."

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	4. How Awkward but Wonderful Reunions Are

**If Only You Knew**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge. Pretty much, I own Fredrick - and that's it. I don't even really like Fredrick.**

**A/N: In case the last name thing in the last chapter was confusing (and I'm pretty sure it was): Satine's last name is really Mercer. When she moved to France, she decided she needed a French last name, so she changed it to Poisson and that was what Harold knew her as. I'm not sure how Nini learned her real last name, but, whatever. Then, back in England, she kept Poisson when she got the job at the bar.**

Satine's POV

Satine finished the last song of the night, her final note swallowed in the cheers. She smiled, but it was forced. Despair and disappointment threatened to engulf her - another day had passed and Christian hadn't shown up. She wished she were somewhere more private so she could burst into tears. Still smiling, her eyes swept the crowd and she curtsied deeply. It was as she lifted her eyes again that she saw him.

"Christian," she whispered, their eyes met across the room. Time slowed and for a few seconds, she couldn't move. Then he shook his head, as if in denial, and turned away - toward the door. "No." she murmured.

She suddenly remembered where she was, and quickly smiled at the still cheering audience. As quickly as she could - not very quickly, unfortunately - she made her way through them, following Christian. She opened the door in time to hear someone - that annoying Fredrickchandler, she realized - say, "You promised you'd listen to her, Christian. Come on - she might have another song."

Satine quickly composed herself and said, "Actually, she's finished for the night," both Fredrickchandler and Christian turned around, startled. "But she would like you to listen to her. Me. Please."

Fredrickchandler was the first to speak, "Well, I was just talking about singing -"

"Freddie!" Christian interrupted.

"What?"

Satine sighed and said, "Do you speak French, Fredrickchandler?"

"French? No."

"Good." she continued, speaking to Christian again, but this time in French. "I'm sorry. I - didn't want - he was - Harold said -" She realized she was babbling and took a deep breath before going on. "The Duke was going to kill you. I couldn't let that happen."

"But you did." Christian said quietly, also in French. "I've been dead for the past three months. Ask Fredrick."

Satine nodded slowly, "Me, too. That night - I panicked. I didn't know what to do and I couldn't think of anything." She took several unconscious steps forward, her gaze locked in his. "When Harold suggested I convince you that I didn't - love you, it was better than nothing and something had to be done, immediately. But I do. Please, believe me, I do love you. Everything I said that night was a lie." His expression was not encouraging. "Do you believe me?"

He shook his head, "I don't know. I don't know what to believe anymore."

Somehow, in all her imagined reunions with Christian, Satine had never thought he wouldn't believe her - not after she explained. She felt tears spring into to her eyes and she began breathing more heavily. _Calm down._ She told herself firmly. "Right." She played with something in her pocket. "Well, like I said, I'm finished for the night and I have somewhere to go." She pulled the object out of her pocket and pushed it into his hand as she walked passed him.

She hadn't taken three steps when he called her back, "Wait. Satine -" She allowed herself a brief smile before turning around. He held out what she'd given him - the money he'd thrown at her feet at the performance of _Spectacular Spectacular. _Satine had carried it with her since then, not able to stand the sight of it, but also unable to part with it - after all, that money and his coat were the only things of his she had. "I don't want this."

"Why not? It's yours, after all. You dropped it - right before you left." They were both speaking in English again, but Satine had nearly forgotten about Fredrickchandler.

He looked from the money to her and back. Then without warning, he threw it in a nearby trash can. Satine raised her eyebrows, surprised. Then she smiled, and to her enormous relief, he smiled back. "So, do I believe you?" he asked. "Yes. Yes, I believe you."

"Good." she felt that 'good' hardly did the situation justice. "Wonderful. I really do have to go. But I work here again tomorrow night." With one last smile she murmured, "Je t'adore." and left.

Did she imagine it, or did she hear a quiet, "Je t'adore," in return as she walked away?

* * *

Christian's POV

"Je t'adore." she murmured and vanished into the night without another sound.

"Je t'adore." he whispered back.

Fredrick broke the silence, at the same time reminding Christian of his existence. "She knows my name."

Christian couldn't help it - he burst into laughter. Fredrick stared at him like he'd gone crazy. Had he really laughed so seldom over the past few months? Thinking back, he couldn't remember laughing at all since he'd returned to England - and even smiles had been forced. What he'd told Satine was truer than he'd realized - he really had been dead. But she'd brought him back to life.

"What? I never thought she was actually listening - so I introduced myself everyday." Fredrick shook himself. "But what do you believe? What did she say in French?"

Christian sighed. "If that had been your business, she would've said it in English."

"But -"

"Look, I did what you wanted me to, right? I talked to her. Now, I'm going home."

Fredrick followed him and he continued to ask questions, undeterred by Christian's lack of answers. "What happened? What did she give you? Why -?"

_This is going to be a very long night. _Christian thought as they arrived at Fredrick's apartment. But in truth, he didn't even hear Fredrick's questions. He was too busy thinking about her.

**A/N: Ok, terrible ending, I know, but I couldn't think of anything else.**

******I know that most people in England, especially at this time period, would probably speak French, but for the sake of argument and the storyline, very few of my characters do. Christian is apparently good with languages and picked it up while he was in France - which was, I don't know, the summer maybe?**

**In case you know even less French than I do (I went to a English-French translator), Je t'aime means I love you.**

**This is where If Only You Knew and A Second Chance, A Second Play diverge - up until this chapter, they are exactly the same. If you know the story of Les Mis, then get out! Go read ASC,ASP! Right now (but don't reread the beginning - start on chapter 3)! Scat, it needs reviews more than this one does (though, of course, if you really _want_ to review both, I don't have a problem with that).**

**Please review, like always. I should be able to write more easily after this chapter since I wasn't exactly sure how their reunion should go. **


	5. How Helpful Strangers Can Be Or Not

**If Only You Knew**

**Disclaimer: One day, perhaps I will be a published author. I will write original stories for others to read and enjoy and perhaps even write stories about them on this very site. I will read them and laugh at how they manipulate my characters. Perhaps I will even write some myself - I think it would be fun to change things in my own story. But today is not that day, and this is not that story. Of course, even if it was, I probably wouldn't say I owned it because no one would believe me. **

**Thanks to: Mithostwen, LadyDorothy, Scarlett Masquerade, Trakrat for reviewing! Reviews give this story life! Or, at least, words. Whether the words are alive - you'll have to decide that, won't you?**

Nini found the residence of a Mr. Mercer with relative ease. She examined the house – fairly comfortable, but certainly not fancy – and wondered why she'd never thought of Sparkles as from a middle class family. Then again, she'd never really thought of Sparkles' life outside of the Moulin Rouge at all. "Well, this isn't getting me any closer to finding her." Nini muttered and approached the house.

A young maid answered the door. Sparkles had servants too? "Good afternoon," Nini said. "Does Satine Mercer live here?"

"Who may I say is calling?"

"Nin – Nadine . . . Zidler." It was the first last name she could think of – after all, Harold had been like a father to her, and it wasn't as if she know who her real father was.

The maid invited her in, then left and returned a few minutes later with an older version of Satine, with dark brown hair instead of red. "Madame – I mean, Mrs. Mercer?" Nini asked uncertainly. In looks, this woman might be like Sparkles, but the stern expression she was wearing was one Nini couldn't even imagine on Sparkles.

"Yes. You have been inquiring after my daughter, Miss Zidler?"

Nini nodded. "I'm a friend from Paris – I need to talk to her. Is she here?"

"I'm afraid not. She hasn't mentioned you. But then again, she hasn't said much of anything about Paris, except that she met a young man there and has been unable to find him since they returned to England."

She hadn't found Shakespeare? Another possibility that Nini realized she'd never even considered. "Oh. Do you know where I could find her?"

"No." The cold finality in her voice made Nini think that Mrs. Mercer wouldn't want to tell her even if she did know. "However, she will be home tomorrow if you wish to speak to her." She escorted her obviously unwanted guest to the door almost forcefully. If Nini hadn't known better, she would've thought that Mrs. Mercer knew who - or rather, _what -_ she was. But that was impossible, because she'd taken precautions against being recognized - she'd met plenty of English gentlemen at the Moulin Rouge. She'd let her hair down to her shoulders, was wearing less make-up than she ever had in life, and had brought modest clothes ("_You _own _modest_ dresses!" squealed the other Diamond Dogs when she'd mentioned this). Nini wasn't positive that Sparkles herself would recognized her.

As Nini thanked her and said good-bye, she nearly ran into a man coming up the steps to the Mercer's house. "Excuse me," she said, trying to pass him.

He caught her by the arm. "No, excuse _me_, mademoiselle..." Nini almost gasped as she realized who the man holding her captive was: the Inspector who'd been investigating the Duke's death. She'd hoped to never meet him again - the less anyone connected her with the murder, the better - but here they were and with Mrs. Mercer still at the door to meet her next visitor, so she couldn't change her chosen surname.

She groaned inwardly and answered, "Zidler." Why had she chosen a name that was known to anyone at all familiar with the Moulin Rouge? Her mother's last name would've worked, why couldn't she have used that? Nini's despairing thoughts were cut off as the Inspector began talking.

"Mademoiselle - Zidler," he said slowly. He knew the name - of course he did. Before he could remember he knew it from, Nini quickly pulled her arm free.

"If you'll excuse me, sir?" she said, trying to make her accent as English as possible. Not that it would help - not if the Inspector asked Mrs. Mercer who she was. And he was a police officer, so she had to assume that he would be able to figure out who she really was and - horror of horrors - might even tell Mrs. Mercer that. "Well," Nini murmured to herself. "I guess I can't go back tomorrow. I'll have to find Sparkles some other way."

Nini was once more interrupted as she stepped onto the street and was promptly run into and nearly knocked the ground. "Oh, I'm so sorry miss!" At least he was British.

"Don't people in this city watch where they're going!" Nini cried, trying to let off some frustration. She examined the stranger who'd run into her. Sandy brown hair and startling blue eyes - and other than that, unremarkable. She nearly laughed as he began stuttering another apology, but kept her voice cold. "It's all right, I suppose. Partly my fault, anyway."

"So, you know the Mercers?" he asked.

"No!"

"Oh. Well, my friend Christian is dating their daughter."

"I thought she couldn't find him," Nini said without thinking.

"_I_ thought you didn't know them." He grinned when she glared at him. "I'm Fredrick Chandler."

"Nadine Rousseau." she hoped Fredrick never met the Inspector. "I never said I didn't know their daughter. Do you know where I can find her?"

* * *

Nini stared at the pub that Fredrick had directed her to uncertainly. Since the Inspector had started investigating the Duke's murder, she had given thought only to finding Sparkles. Now that she had found her, Nini wasn't sure she wanted to actually talk to her. Especially if Shakespeare was there – which was likely. She took an inadvertent step backwards. Then several more. Almost before she realized it, Nini had walked several blocks away.

"Oh, what is _wrong _with you, Nini?" she muttered to herself angrily, stopping. She sat down on a nearby bench. "I don't know. What am I supposed to do now?" She murmured.

"Well the first thing is to stop talking to yourself."

Nini jumped and realized she sat down next to someone else. A young woman with blonde hair and wearing an expensive dress that Nini knew probably cost more than she made in a year at the Moulin Rouge. She was reading a book, giving no indication that she'd spoken, or even noticed Nini. "What?"

The woman yawned and turned a page. "Was that directed at me, or were you simply continuing your own conversation?" she asked haughtily, still not taking her eyes off the page.

"I was talking to you."

"Good." She closed the book and finally turned to look at Nini. "Hmm . . . I must admit, I hoped you'd have red hair." She said, examined Nini critically. "But you'll do, I suppose."

"I – I'll do?" Nini sputtered. "I'll do for what? And what does _anything_ have to do with red hair?"

"Nothing, of course!" she gave a very strange laugh that Nini strongly suspected was fake. "My name is Diamond Atwood. I am an aspiring therapist, and I would like to use you as a test patient."

"Um . . . no." Nini got up to leave.

"Wait!" Diamond jumped up too. "I understand that you might not want to tell your problems to a complete stranger –"

"I don't have any problems!" Nini cried.

Diamond raised an eyebrow. "No problems? Well, the very act of denial is a problem. Then there's talking to yourself – and the conversation with yourself was dripping with problems. You know that something is wrong with yourself, but you don't know what it is and now your wondering what to do. All of these things are discussed at length in this book, and I –"

"I don't care what some book says – I don't have any problems and I don't want to be a patient, test or otherwise!" Nini almost shouted.

Diamond looked disappointed and not a little hurt. "Oh. Well, if you change you mind, please don't hesitate to call on me." She pulled a card out of her purse and gave it to Nini. _Diamond Atwood, Therapist_ it read, followed by an address. "What was your name?"

"Nadine Rousseau."

"Well . . . good day, Miss Rousseau."

Nini nodded to her as she left then looked at the card suspiciously. "What?" she asked it. "I _don't_ have any problems – not ones that can be treated by a therapist."

She started back towards the pub, wondering if it was true. After all, she'd said it to a _calling card_.

**A/N: I've never promised good chapter endings. **

**So...the random therapist was a surprise even to me - in case you have read A Second Chance A Second Play, this Diamond Atwood is nothing like the Diamond Atwood in that except that she has blonde hair and the same name. I don't like naming people and I do like the name Diamond Atwood, so I might as well get some use out of it.**

**Please review!**


	6. How Hard These Titles Are To Make

If Only You Knew

Chapter What is this, six? 5:

**Upon rereading the last chapter, I realized I took out a few sentences without realizing it. It was nothing too important, so you don't have to peruse it searching for something different, but I meant to mention that Nini's mother's last name **_**was**_** Rousseau, which is why she started using that. This might, but probably won't, be used later, so I just wanted to let you know. **

This time, Nini entered the pub without giving herself the chance to turn back again. _What are you afraid of anyway? _She asked herself silently. _They don't know what you did, and it doesn't matter now anyway._

Trying to convince herself of this, Nini began searching for Sparkles. Instead, her eyes landed on Shakespeare, who was alone. She quickly looked away, her heart-rate quickening inexplicably. _This is ridicules, Nini!_ She told herself sternly. After taking a few deep breaths, she made her way across the room toward him.

"Christian." He looked up. "Hi."

"Hello . . ." he said, sounding confused. "Do I know you?"

Nini could've laughed in relief. Here she was, worried that Shakespeare and Sparkles had somehow found out that she had hinted to the Duke about their relationship – when in fact, he didn't even remember her! Then again, they'd lived and worked in close proximity for several months, so maybe it was less that her didn't remember and more that her disguise was working better than she'd thought.

"Technically." She answered, sitting next to him. "Nadine Rousseau. Better known as Nini Legs-in-the-Air."

"Oh. Right. You look different with your hair down." Nini nodded. Was it just her, or had his tone gotten slightly chillier? There was a few seconds of silence as Nini pondered this. She was just a Diamond Dog, the lead dancer in _Spectacular Spectacular_, there wasn't any reason her name should spark hostility in him, unless . . . unless he'd taken her jibe about the Duke seriously.

"Look, about what I said – I didn't mean it, it was a joke –"

"It wasn't funny." He said shortly.

"No. I'm sorry." she sighed as her apology was met with silence. "Where's Sparkles?" He looked at her blankly. "Satine? Your girlfriend? The Sparkling Diamond? Am I ringing any bells?"

He grinned unwillingly. "She left about five minutes ago, but she'll be back soon. And she's not my girlfriend. She's my fiancée."

"You're engaged?" Nini cried, unexpectedly horrified. "And her parents don't know?"

"She went home to tell them . . . how did you know her parents don't know?"

Nini gasped. "Never mind that – why didn't you say she'd gone home? He might still be there!"

Before he could answer, Nini took off at a run.

**

* * *

**

Satine walked up the steps to her parents' house, feeling like life could not get any better. "Hello, Sarah." She told the maid happily as she past her. "Where's my mother?"

"In the drawing room, miss."

"Thank you." She made her way to the drawing room, still smiling. "Mother," she said as she entered the room. "Mother, I found –" she stopped short, smiling dropping off her face as she realized her mother was not alone.

"Ah, Mam'selle Mercer." The man said smoothly. "Or should I say, Poisson?"

"Satine, please tell me that what this man says is not true!" Her mother begged.

"That – depends on what he's been saying." Satine said quietly. "Monsieur?"

"I am," he answered importantly. "Inspector Moreau. I am here investigating the murder of the Duke of _somewhere unknown and unimportant_." At this point, Mrs. Mercer burst into tears. Ignoring her, the Inspector continued. "I understand you were at the location of his death at the time – the Moulin Rouge, a popular bordello in Montmatre, about three and a half months ago, am I correct?"

"No." Satine said forcefully.

"No?"

"The Moulin Rouge was a dance hall and is now a theater – the fact that it serves the purposes of a brothel is irrelevant." Harold had always stressed that, while she might be a courtesan, she and all the other Diamond Dogs had been employed as entertainers.

"But you do not deny working there when the Duke was killed?" The Inspector went on, unperturbed.

Satine paused. "No." she said quietly. "But if you are under the impression that I was at all instrumental in bringing about the Duke's death, you are mistaken."

"I see." He looked skeptical. "Well, I have to go, but I will be back at ten tomorrow and I suggest that you are as well. Have a good day."

"Oh that's likely." Satine muttered as he left. Her happiness was gone, and even running her fingers over her engagement ring didn't help. Once again, she and Christian were being pulled apart by events outside their control. She turned back to her mother, whose eyes were still filled with tears. "Mom –" she began, but got no further.

"It's true?"

"What! No! Of course not!" Satine cried. "I'm not a murderer!"

"Not that. You actually worked in a – in a –"

"Whorehouse." Satine completed, sighing. "Yes."

"But . . . why –" before Mrs. Mercer could go on, Sarah entered and announced that there was a Miss Zidler here. _Miss Zidler? _Thought Satine, trying to remember if Harold had a daughter. When Miss Zidler entered the room however, Satine recognized her at once.

"Nini! What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Well," Nini began. "I was _trying_ to warn you that a certain French Inspector was going to come here and accuse you of murder."

"That would've been nice." Satine tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice – this was Nini after all, her friend, the one who had given her a second chance at a life with Christian. And the same action that gave her this second chance was now ruining everything again. "What makes him think it was me?"

"Nothing in particular. Mostly because there doesn't seem to be anyone else to blame." Nini shrugged. "And everyone believes it too – Harold, the girls, Toulouse. They won't say anything, but they don't doubt it for a moment."

"You're kidding! Don't they know me at all?" _Why_ did everyone think that she could've committed murder?

"'Course they do." She grinned. "You're the star courtesan who has never cared for anything but money and glamour in your life, remember? But answer me this - if, a year ago, I had told you that you were going to get engaged to a penniless writer...you would've told me I was crazy, wouldn't you?" Satine played with the ring again, trying and failing to deny it. "Then you fell in love, and after that no one knew what to expect from you. I'm not convinced that, given the chance, you _wouldn't_ have killed him."

**Not exactly a good place to stop, I know this but . . . you'll survive, I promise. Hopefully. (Really, if you don't, there's something wrong with you...) Poor Satine, doubted by everyone, even the person who actually did kill the Duke. I'm not sure where Christian got the money for an engagement ring or how the Inspector found her so quickly, but are these things really important? Let's just say not.**

**By the way - have you noticed that if you add 'If Only You Knew' to any of the chapter titles (other than the prologue), it actually makes sense? I _just_ realized that. Isn't that sad?**

**Please review!**


	7. How Well Nini Can Sing

**Chapter 6: How Well Nini Can Sing**

**Disclaimer: I don't own:**

**1) The Moulin Rouge**

**2) The Impossible Dream**

**3) Satine's ideas about mirrors. That came from another fanfic, 'Mirrors' by Amy Fortuna. I should probably ask her if I can use it, but it doesn't come in very much - here, as consolation (if she reads this) I order each and every one of you to go read and review 'Mirrors.' It's a very well-written, thought provoking piece that wormed its way into my story. If you, Amy Fortuna, wish that I remove it from the story, I can do it. It's not that important, but I think it does add to the story. **

**Also, if it's not clear from the story, I know nothing whatsoever about therapists or shock or whether they go together at all (besides shock therapy, which does not come in at all). Please tell me if I got something majorly wrong - like whether there would be some much better occupation for Diamond to have that wouldn't mess up the story. Until then, I'll just leave it as is and hope for the best.**

Nini's POV

Sparkles stared at Nini for a few seconds after her admittedly bold – if true – statement. She sighed and glanced at Mrs. Mercer. She was breathing rapidly, eyes wide and unfocused, trembling as though she was about to fall over. Sparkles had noticed this too and quickly grabbed her arm. "Mother, are you all right?"

It seemed clear to Nini that the answer was no. She helped Sparkles lower her mother into a chair and said, "I think she's in shock. Probably needs a doctor."

"A doctor?" Sparkles asked. "Yes. Do you know any? I don't, not here."

Nini was about to shake her head when she remembered the calling card she still held. "I know a therapist – will that work?"

Sparkles looked at her mother again and nodded. "It'll have to. Help me."

Together, they guided Mrs. Mercer to the address on the card, which was only about a block away. Diamond answered the door almost immediately and her face lit up as soon as she saw Nini. "Miss Rousseau!" she said brightly. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No." Nini answered firmly. "I think my . . . friend's mother is in shock. Can you help her?"

Diamond turned to Mrs. Mercer and nodded. "Come in." She showed them to her sitting room and told them to wait there. She then took Mrs. Mercer to "her office" which Nini caught a glimpse of as she opened the door and thought it looked a lot more like a bedroom than an office, but she wasn't about to complain.

"Thanks, Nini." Nini groaned in reply. "Why don't you like it when I thank you?" asked Sparkles. Nini grunted noncommittally. "Hmm." Sparkles gave up and changed the subject, sitting down on a couch. "Your therapist looks like you."

"What?"

"You didn't notice? Really, if your hair was a little longer and blonde, you'd look like her twin." Sparkles continued. Nini tried to conjure a picture of her own face to compare it with Diamond's and failed. The last time she'd seen a mirror was – in Sparkles' dressing room, about a week ago, and before that she'd avoided them.

"Would I? I don't really know what I look like." At Sparkles' look of disbelief, she added. "You're the one who surrounds yourself with mirrors, not me. I don't like mirrors – I don't like what I see in them."

Sparkles launched into long list of reasons why mirrors were imperative for an aspiring actress – something about needing to know how her body worked in order to control it. It didn't make much sense to Nini. A few minutes later, she gasped suddenly, interrupting Sparkles' speech. "Shakespeare!" she cried, and tried to resist the urge to laugh at Sparkles' startled expression. "Christian. He was expecting you to go back, after you told your parents about the engagement –"

"Your right!" Sparkles said. "But, Mother –" she glanced at the door to Diamond's office. "I should stay here. I – Nini –?"

"Sure, I'll go let him know what you're doing. If my twin asks if I'd consider changing my mind again, say no."

As Nini turned to leave, Sparkles said once more. "Thank you, Nini." Nini closed her eyes and paused, before walking out the door without another word.

_Why_, she wondered as she made her way to the pub where she would find Shakespeare, _why _did Sparkles insist on thanking her for everything? Nini didn't know, or at least didn't want to think about, why the gratitude made her uncomfortable. Still, she couldn't help wondering why the one person she'd never done anything for was the only one who'd ever thanked her. She shook her head and forced herself to think about something else.

A few minutes later she arrived at the pub (for the third time that day, what's that about?). Shakespeare was still there, but Fredrick Chandler had now joined him. She sat own next to them without invitation. "Sparkles isn't coming back." She told Shakespeare flatly, ignoring Fredrick entirely.

"What?"

Nini grinned. "Her mother went into shock and Satine had to take her to a therapist."

Fredrick didn't seem to like being ignored. "Mrs. Mercer went into shock? Why?" he asked before Shakespeare could.

"I'll let her tell you that. I just came to tell she's not coming. So, if you'll excuse me –" She tried to get up to leave, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"You're saying that Satine will not be returning tonight?" asked the hand, which belonged to a middle-aged woman.

"I just said that, didn't I? Who're you?"

"I am the owner of this establishment, and Satine told me she was going to sing tonight – I have a large number of customers who were looking forward to it. What am I supposed to tell them now?" she crossed her arms angrily, as though it was Nini's fault that Satine wasn't going to sing. Well, it was, but she didn't know that.

"Tell them to get over it – no, wait." Nini was hit by inspiration. "Tell them, _I'll_ sing instead."

"You?"

"Yes. What? I can sing just as well as she can! Maybe better!" This was directed at Shakespeare who looked incredulous. "The only reason she was the star instead of me was that she was prettier. That was the _only_ reason."

"Harold said that?"

"He might as well have. So, can I?"

The woman looked skeptical, but said. "All right. But if my customers are at all disappointed, then I'm not paying you."

"Fine. I'm Nadine Rousseau, by the way." Nini went to the front of the room as the woman explained the situation and introduced her. They crowd certainly seemed disappointed, but Nini hoped she would change that by the end of the song. She began to sing.

**To dream the impossible dream  
****To fight the unbeatable foe  
****To bear with unbearable sorrow  
****To run where the brave dare not go  
**

**To right the unrightable wrong  
****And to love pure and chaste from afar  
****To try when your arms are too weary  
****To reach the unreachable star**

**This is my quest  
****To follow that star  
****No matter how hopeless  
****No matter how far**

**To fight for the right  
****Without question or pause  
****To be willing to march, march into Hell  
****For a heavenly cause  
**

**And I know if I'll only be true  
****To this glorious quest  
****That my heart will lie peaceful and calm  
****When I'm laid to my rest**

**And the world will be better for this  
****That one man, scorned and covered with scars  
****Still strove with his last ounce of courage  
****To reach the unreachable, the unreachable  
****The unreachable star!**

**And I'll always dream the impossible dream  
****And I'll reach the unreachable star**

There was a few seconds of silence, then her audience burst into applause, no longer disappointed at the change of singers. The pub owner paid her grudgingly, muttering about how much better Satine was. Nini sighed at the amount, but then went back to Shakespeare and Fredrick. "Well?" she asked them.

"It was amazing." Fredrick said immediately.

Shakespeare nodded slowly, "Not better than Satine, but …"

"She's your fiancée – of course you have to say that. But better than you expected, hmm?" Nini grinned once more. "If only I was prettier . . ."

**A/N: I really don't like my chapter endings. Hopefully the eventually ending to the story will be better. Ah well.**

**If you want to hear Nini sing "The Impossible Dream", and I highly recommend that you do, look up 'Caroline O'Connor impossible dream' on youtube and it's the first choice. Simply imagine her with longer hair and more appropriate clothing (if you remember, Nini doesn't dress like that in London) and _voila!_ Caroline O'Connor, if you didn't know, is the actress who plays Nini in the Moulin Rouge and she is a _phenomenal_ singer. I meant that, about Nini being just as good as Satine, if not better - Nicole Kidman has a beautiful voice, but Caroline O'Connor sings for a living, and she's great at it. Do you get the idea I like Caroline O'Connor? Just listen to her.**

**Please review!**


	8. How Stubborn Moreau Is

**Disclaimer: I really really hope you've gotten the gist of these disclaimers by now, but if not - I DO NOT OWN THE MOULIN ROUGE! Why do I keep having to repeat myself?**

**Thanks to reviewers again!**

**Chapter 7: How Stubborn Moreau Is**

On Shakespeare's insistence, Nini led him back to Diamond's address. Fredrick followed them out of curiosity. Sparkles herself opened the door and told them that Diamond hadn't come out yet. She let them in, saying, "I hope she doesn't mind."

"Diamond doesn't seem to be the type of person who would mind more people knowing about her." Nini said.

"No."

"So, why is your mother in shock?" asked Shakespeare. "Nini wouldn't say – it wasn't because of the news?"

Sparkles sighed. "Well, it was certainly because of news, but not ours. I didn't even have time to tell her." Sparkles went on to tell him about Inspector Moreau, choosing her words carefully because of Fredrick. Nini wandered aimlessly around the sitting room until she found herself facing her own reflection in a mirror that hung above the fireplace. She looked away instinctively.

She heard Shakespeare's voice, as if from a long ways away, "He thinks you killed the Duke? But – the penalty for murder is – death, isn't it?"

"It will be fine, Christian." Sparkles assured him, though Nini didn't think she sounded very sure.

Nini stopped listening and forced herself to look back at the mirror. What was it about mirrors that she hated so much? Nini wondered, but before she could begin to formulate an answer, Diamond emerge for "her office" saying that Mrs. Mercer would be all right, but needed to spend the night at her house to aid in the recovery. If she found the appearance of two strange men in her sitting room at all surprising or troublesome, she did not show it. "Do _you_ need therapy?" she asked Fredrick brightly. He shook his head and backed away, looking scared. "Oh well, if you ever do, don't hesitate to come!"

The four of them left. "Inspector Moreau will be coming back to my house at ten tomorrow morning. Which I suppose means I have to tell my father the truth –" Sparkles said.

"Telling your father the truth is all very well – but what about Moreau? Will you tell _him_ the truth too?" Nini interrupted. In her explanation to Shakespeare, Sparkles had 'forgotten' to mention that she knew who the real murderer was. While she knew he'd noticed this, Shakespeare hadn't asked any questions – Inspector Moreau wouldn't be so kind.

"No," Sparkles said quietly. "I won't. I've been thinking about that – do you still have the necklace?"

"Yes . . ." Nini said uncertainly.

"Does anyone else know you have it?"

"Um – Harold, Toulouse, a few of the girls. I'd be murdered in my bed if I let it become common knowledge."

"What about Moreau?"

Nini paused, thinking. "No. I took it off right before I met him."

"Good. This makes everything much easier. Oh – I suggest you throw it in the Thames as soon as possible." Despite Nini's questions, Sparkles would say nothing more on the subject. When they reached her house, she kissed Shakespeare, bid Nini and Fredrick good night and disappeared without another word.

Fredrick and Shakespeare left in one direction while Nini headed toward her hotel in another. She crossed the Thames on her way and paused, her hand drifting toward her purse (yes, she has a purse that I never mentioned, get over it) where she had the necklace carefully tucked away. Then she jerked it away again and walked the rest of the way without stopping. "I am not throwing away that necklace without a better reason." She muttered. She knew Sparkles was probably going to use it in whatever story she made up for Moreau – probably as incriminating evidence – but she wanted to know for sure.

* * *

The next morning, Nini headed back to the Mercer's house and arrived there promptly at ten o'clock. She found a convenient-to-the-point-of-unbelievability place by the side of the house that was right underneath the sitting room window. From there, she could hear everything that was said during Sparkles' interrogation.

"So, Mademoiselle Mercer, you deny killing the Duke?" asked Inspector Moreau.

"Yes, I do." Sparkles answered firmly.

"Well, what do you say happened the night he died?"

Sparkles took a deep breath and began what was probably a very well rehearsed story that she had fabricated overnight. Of course, knowing Sparkles, no one would be able to _tell_ it was a lie – least of all Moreau, who wasn't used to Sparkles. "As you know, it was the opening night of the play we were putting on. It was also supposed to be the night that the Duke was reimbursed for his contribution to the production." She paused, then asked a question of her own. "I don't suppose you were there that night – to watch the show?"

"No, I never go to the theatre if I can help it. I hate plays – and music in general."

"Oh." Sparkles seemed thrown off by this open display of contempt for her passion. "Well, he was _not_ reimbursed." She continued. "He and his manservant were already dead when I arrived at his rooms."

"And you can't tell me anything about who killed them – shot them both and fled, huh?" Moreau sounded as though he'd expected something like this. "And you left the country on a whim and didn't go to the police because – I'm sorry, this is where my own imagination gives out. Please, finish your story."

"Actually, the murderer was still there." Sparkles said coldly. "Yes, I couldn't see his face because it was covered by a black mask, but –"

"Which means that if you saw him again, you wouldn't be able to identify him?" Moreau interrupted.

"Precisely why he wore it, I assume. Naturally, when I saw the Duke and his manservant dead by this man's hand, I panicked. I tried to run, but he grabbed me from behind. I managed to get away – but he got my necklace."

"Your necklace?"

"Yes. If you had been there that night you would have seen it. Beautiful thing. The Duke gave it to my to wear at the performance. Made of silver and diamonds – absolutely beautiful and worth a fortune." _God, she's good_, Nini thought – she was gushing quite convincingly over the very necklace that she hated so much that she'd given it away. "Anyway, as I was running away – he pulled it off my neck. And that's how you can find him – by tracking down that necklace.

"You still haven't explained why you left so suddenly – or why you didn't come to the police." Moreau said sternly.

"_Why_ I left?" Sparkles asked so incredulously that Nini felt that she should be able to guess what was coming, even though she had no clue. That was the idea, of course – Moreau was supposed to think the following explanation was extremely obvious and not question it. "I was panicking – there was a murderer loose at the Moulin Rouge. You think I was going to stay? I left as quickly as I could and before I knew it, I was on a train home. I didn't even think of going to the police – and by the time I did I was already here."

"Hmm." said Inspector Moreau. "What if I told you I don't believe a word of what you just told me?" Nini gasped out loud – how could he? _She_ almost believed the story, and she knew what had really happened. "You know what the penalty for murder in France is?"

"Death." Sparkles answered quietly.

"Exactly. Now, I think that you have put together a very convincing story in order to avoid that penalty. I'm supposed to believe that some faceless murderer just walked into the Moulin Rouge, killed your would-be lover, stole your necklace – a necklace that I see no evidence ever even existed – and as a result, you came all the way to London in a panic?"

Sparkles began telling him how she could prove the necklace's existence, while Nini had a vision of Sparkles dead – then a vision of how Shakespeare would react to her death sentence. She began breathing more rapidly. Without quite knowing how she'd gotten there, Nini was opening the door to the Mercer's sitting room.

"She didn't kill him." Nini said.

"Mademoiselle – what did you call yourself? Zidler?" Inspector Moreau asked. "She didn't, did she?"

"No, she didn't."

"And you say this because –?"

"Because I did."

**A/N: _Finally_ an ending that I'm happy with - not that this is the end of the story, no, no, of course not. The story is, in fact one more chapter plus a short epilogue. Yes, I am finished with it. I'll probably post Chapter 8 in a few days and the epilogue a few days after that. **

**However, I am at the moment working on a prequil to this story - basically the movie from Nini's POV (I have searched and searched - people have done the movie through Satine's eyes plenty of times - boring in my opinion, I might as well just watch the movie - and certain scenes have been told through Nini, especially Roxanne's Tango, but never the entire thing. I find it sad.) It will go into how and why Nini decided to kill the Duke and such. I already have a few chapters of it written, so I'll start posting as soon as this is finished.**

**Yay? Yay. Ok, now go review.**


	9. How Nini Can Lose Her Temper

**Chapter 8: How Nini Can Lose Her Temper**

**Much sooner update than I expected, but I don't care anymore. I just really want to finish posting it.**

**A word to the wise: Never use Sparkles as a name – Microsoft Word doesn't recognized it as one, so pretty much every sentence that I use with it is considered grammatically incorrect. It's not so much a problem with something it doesn't recognize at all, like Nini, but Sparkles is an actual word, and the computer wants to treat it as such (Sparkles were, instead of Sparkles was). It's so frustrating!**

The truth was out of her mouth before she could stop it, but to Nini's surprise, Inspector Moreau did not immediately switch his focus to her. "Really?" he asked without much interest.

"Yes!" Nini insisted. "Here – I can show you the necklace!" and she pulled it out of her purse.

He took it and examined it carefully. Then he gave it back. "What exactly does this prove – other than that you were eavesdropping on this interrogation? How do I know –?"

"What?" asked Nini, rather upset. She did not want to have to defend her right to be a murderer – not after Sparkles had had to go to such lengths to defend herself against being one. "That this isn't some sort of trick – I, the innocent one, am _gallantly_ giving up my life to protect the real killer – why, because I'm that _noble_? Ha! To think - me, being noble!"

"Oh, well, when you put it that way . . ." Moreau trailed off, muttering. Sparkles was staring at Nini like she had an extra head. _What are you doing?_ She mouthed. Nini shrugged, unsure of the answer.

"Whatever. You know, if you don't want to arrest me – after I _confessed_ – well, that's fine by me. I guess I'll just go –" Nini was almost out the front door by the time Moreau made up his mind and followed her with a yell. Laughing, Nini ran out the door and had soon lost him among London's rambling streets. Then she returned to Satine's house by a roundabout way, knowing that Inspector Moreau would never expect her to go back.

* * *

Of questionable POV (seriously, it switches about every two sentences and I have no idea what to do about it. Bare with me, okay?)

"Nini –"

"Don't you dare."

There was a coldness in Nini's voice that Satine had never heard before. "Don't what?"

"Don't –" she shuddered. "- Thank me. You were going to, weren't you?" Satine couldn't deny it. She said nothing, but Nini understood. "Thought so. Do you want to know why I don't like it?"

"Why?"

"Because, as I've told you before, I don't deserve it!" she shouted. She'd lost control of her emotions before – spite, jealousy, even a strange, wild happiness that would've been better contained – all had escaped her at one time or another. Never had she allowed the long-dormant anger to rise to the surface. Now however, there was no stopping it. "I've never done anything for you! Why do you insist on thanking me all the time?"

Satine didn't answer. She was too startled by Nini's outburst. But Nini wasn't finished. "I didn't kill the Duke for you, I didn't come to London for you, and I most certainly did _not_ turn myself in for _you_!" she yelled. "Why would I? You've done nothing for me – nothing except keep me in the shadows, a common prostitute, when you knew perfectly well that I wanted to be more than that! That I _could've_ been more than that! But you had to come and dazzle Harold with your smile, and suddenly, next to the great _Sparkling Diamond_, I was NOTHING!"

"Nini, I'm sorry –" Satine found her voice again, but Nini didn't let her finish.

"Shut up! False apologies are worse than undeserved gratitude." She took several deep breaths, trying to get her anger back under control. In the interim, Satine asked a tentative question.

"Who did you do it for then, if not me?"

Nini gave a derisive laugh. "You don't want to know – but that's not my business. Since you ask, and since this seems to be a day of confession . . . Shakespeare."

"Christian?"

"If you prefer. Here's my confession: I love him." Satine stared at her, mouth open in shock. "I do. I'm in love with your fiancé! But don't worry – I wouldn't dream of trying to break you up again. Yes," she added. "I told the Duke about your affair – I'll confess that too. Besides," she laughed again. "He hates me. I love him, he hates me and he loves you. And . . . you love him?"

"Yes, of course."

"Mmm – I'm not so sure."

"Right now that's the only thing I'm sure of!" Satine cried angrily, but Nini just shrugged again, her own anger spent.

"Right. I'm leaving now, but before I go, I ask you to think about this. You love him, you'd do _anything_ for him: betray him . . . lie to him . . . sleep with someone else . . . all for him. But you wouldn't, you say yourself, you wouldn't kill for him. You wouldn't even kill someone who threatened his life. But I did. So – who loves him more? You? Or me?" With that Nini turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway, "Oh, and, don't tell him. Please, don't tell him."

Satine shook her head as Nini walked out. No, she wouldn't tell Christian. She wished Nini hadn't told her – it was a strange sort of revenge, she supposed. Revenge for the years that had 'kept her in the shadows'. Satine supposed it was true – if she hadn't shown up seven years ago, Nini would've become the Sparkling Diamond, there was no doubt about that, but . . . Satine had never even thought about it that way. She'd just needed a job, and Harold had given her one.

Satine pulled herself out of the memories and began to cry. She sat down on the couch and wept bitterly for awhile, until she heard someone else come in and sit down next to her.

"Satine?" Christian asked softly. "Darling, what's wrong?" she felt his arms wrap around her.

"Nothing." She murmured, leaning into his embrace. "Nothing important."

He didn't believe her, she knew, but neither did he inquire further. They sat in silence for a long time, until finally Satine sat up and smiled. "Hey, I'm okay." She was more trying to convince herself than anything else. "It'll be great – we're free. Forever. I love you."

"I love you – forever."

**I'm not sure how Christian got there - just another of the many inconsistencies in this story. You know, he's just awesome like that, randomly knowing that Satine needed comfort. Whatever. By the way, LadyDoroAnne, in case your wondering, Nini's mention of her own nobility (or lack thereof) was in this chapter before you mentioned it - the fact that you did mention it made me laugh.**

**So, there might have to be a Chapter 9, before the epilogue. It could be necessary, but possibly not, so I'm going to post the epilogue first (probably tomorrow) and then ask whether you think there should be another chapter. Just a heads up that the epilogue might not be all there is to the story. I don't really want to write another chapter - this is the climax, there shouldn't be that much left! - so maybe I'll just answer any questions in review replies and . . . I'm rambling, aren't I? I'll stop now.**

**Please review! **


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Never have. Never will. You get the picture, yes?**

Satine's POV

Time passed.

Her mother recovered from her shock.

Her father forgave her for the disreputable time she'd spent in France.

Both her parents eventually accepted Christian as a son-in-law, once they realized there was no changing her mind.

Satine expected that Nini would come back eventually. Sometimes she hoped for her return, others she dreaded the day she did. But as days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and finally, months into years, she gradually began hoping more and dreading less – over time she stopped expecting her altogether.

Then about two years after Nini had left, Christian decided to rewrite _Spectacular Spectacular_ into a play called _The Moulin Rouge_. It was set in France and much more true to the actual events, if romanticized and kept as a musical. Satine, of course, would play the lead, but they held auditions for the other parts.

And there she was, in a group of girls auditioning to be dancers. Her hair had grown out and she'd dyed it blonde, but to Satine, Nini's face was unmistakable.

Unless . . .she suddenly remembered a young therapist who had shared Nini's features and experienced a moment of doubt. Nini – or Diamond, Satine wasn't sure anymore – turned toward her, laughing at something a fellow dancer had said and her eyes landed on Satine. Her smile flickered. Then it returned, as mischievous as Satine had ever seen it. Nini, it had to be Nini, raised a finger to her lips and shook her head. The meaning was clear. _You don't know me. _She returned to her conversation.

After the auditions – during which Nini easily became the lead dancer – she approached Satine and Christian, grinning broadly. "I'm Roxanne Atwood, by the way." She said.

"Roxanne?" asked Christian.

"Sure, you can't deny the Argentinean everything."

Satine was having trouble containing laughter, but she said, "Atwood? Any relation to a therapist named Diamond Atwood?"

Nini feigned surprise. "You know her? Yes, she's my sister – twin sister. We were separated at birth, but I recently located her and we've being living together. With her therapy and my acting, we get by."

"Isn't it dangerous for you to be acting, Roxanne?"

"Not at all." Nini lowered her voice. "You heard Inspector Moreau – he hates anything to do with the stage. I'm perfectly safe as long as I don't use my real name. I've been using this disguise for the past year and a half, and he hasn't found me yet."

"And if he does?"

"Then I'll move to – Australia. I'll move to Australia and change my name again, to Caroline O'Connor. I sort of want to anyway. Satine?" Satine raised her eyebrows – Nini hadn't called her by name for . . . a very long time. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For – I don't know. Not being able to convince Moreau of your innocence, I suppose." She laughed. "It's silly, I know, but – I would've gone back. If I could've, I would've gone back to the Moulin Rouge and I'd probably still be there, unable to look in a mirror without flinching. So, thank you, for forcing me to become something better than that. And," her eyes flickered toward Christian before continuing. "About what I said – I'm sorry. I was wrong."

Satine nodded slowly. "I'm not sure you were wrong - not entirely. Besides, it's been two years – I can't hold grudges that long, Nini, you know that. It's forgiven." Nini grinned and suddenly hugged her happily. Satine smiled and briefly hugged her back before pushing away.

"We can't have this, Roxanne – the lead dancer hugging the lead actress? The scandal! What will they think?" Satine laughed. Nini rolled her eyes, and they embraced once more.

**A/N: Yay! It's over! I hope you liked it! If you want me to write Chapter 9, which would go more into what happened to Nini during those two years, I totally can. Otherwise I can just answer any questions you might have. **

**The first chapter of the prequil, which I haven't titled yet, should be posted in the next few days (in others words, as soon as I think of a title). Please read it, yes? Thanks!**

**And thank you to everyone who has read this story - I love readers, I really do, especially when they review. Thanks again!**

**Now, for the last time (on this story), please review!**


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